dirk_grey
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Mafia Teacher 2
🕑 Added 2018-12-02 18:24:46 +0000 UTC Lady luck seemed to compensate for the treacherous turn she had taken during the heist, which left me scrambling for my life.The reason for my thoughts, the material I had found in the secret compartment I had looted in Megan’s room. I had been expecting it to be something related to their sorority. But the initiation videos for the last twenty years was a treasure that was above and beyond even my deepest expectations. The videos depicted an impressive number of rich girls from wealthy backgrounds, going through a range of humiliating and sexually degrading tasks, all safely enclosed in a digital recording. Technically, the videos were encrypted, but the year of initiation and the sorority name, separated by a dot wasn’t exactly the safest password. Nor a plain text file on Nancy’s computer was the best place to hide the password.
Even a cursory browsing was enough to reveal them as a true treasure drove. I was able to recognize a few minor celebrities, along with several wives of local heavy-hitter politicians. I couldn’t help but curse my luck. Just a few of those videos would be enough to elevate me through the ranks after a careful blackmail routine. But now, I lacked the background to use it to its full extent.
I sighed. There was no point losing time imagining what could have happened. Especially since, even without my network, I could still leverage those videos for a decent payday. A few hundred grand, or even a million if I was lucky. A tidy addition for my retirement fund, which would go a long way to compensate for the payday I just lost.
I stood up, and stretched to relax my numbing limbs. I had been sitting in front of the computer since for a while, and my desk wasn’t exactly the most comfortable one. I needed a drink. I glanced to my liqueur cabinet, considering the merits of a stiff double, but decided otherwise. After spending hours in front of the computer, I wanted to immerse myself in the crowd.
I decided to call a taxi instead of driving, partially because I hated the bucket of rust I bought to keep a low profile, partially because of the old habits. It would have surprised the citizens, but the mafia respected the casual laws like drunk driving much more than ordinary people. We didn’t drive drunk, we didn’t have pointless loud parties in our homes, and most importantly, we always paid our taxes. All to make sure the police had no probable cause poking around our property. That’s how the law caught us. It was funny, but tax evasion was much easier to prove than a well-planned murder.
I chose a rundown bar that had a tendency to play the louder end of the classics, mostly thrash metal with a smattering of power mixed, though their impressive selection of bourbon was equally important. Decorated with sparse lights and bulky furniture, it was a perfect location to skulk in a corner and indulge in a few drinks.
The first glance into the place showed me that I had made a good choice. It wasn’t crowded, just a bunch of young men, barely out of the cusp of teenagerhood, were playing pool on one corner while wearing matching colors. Likely gang members. A smattering of other people was spread through the bar, enough to fill the background with a comforting white noise without making it annoying. For a moment, I hoped that I was going to have an unremarkable evening, an opinion that I conservatively revised when I saw two familiar figure entering the bar just a few minutes later. My dear professor Amelia, and her annoying fake-biker boyfriend, Henry.
I hunched my back a bit, trying to avoid being seen. The last thing I needed was for them to notice me. They were annoying, though each in their own way. She would try to ask about the papers in a weak attempt to impose her authority, and he would do his best to convince he was the alpha male, yapping like a small dog with an attitude problem. I had no desire to ruin my mood by listening to their bullshit, even though Amelia had managed to dress in a way that managed to arouse my interest. Gone was the librarian look with sharp business clothes and glasses, replaced by a loose miniskirt that looked about to fell off in a stiff wind, and a crop-top with a deep cleavage while leaving her stomach bare. Combined with her short stature, she was a quintessential biker-chick. Apparently, my dear adviser had some hidden depths, and some treasures she carefully kept hidden…
They took a seat at the opposite side of the bar, close to the pool table since people tended to sit away from the gang members that was obvious in their allegiance, but of course, mister fake biker was too tough to be intimidated by a bunch of boys. From the interested looks the gang members throwing towards Amelia’s side, I could see a disaster breeding, but I kept myself from involving. Maybe he would learn his limits after a good beating, however unlikely.
My prediction turned real soon after. One of the gang members threw a few random statements towards them to test their response. Henry studiously ignored the words despite the glare from Amelia, who was clearly expecting more from her ‘tough’ boyfriend. Her silent shaming worked. Under her angry glare, Henry chose to reply with a less-than-flattering comment, his slurring showing that he had indulged in more drinks than it was recommended.
From there, it rolled out predictably. A minute of verbal argument, followed by a few punches that sent Henry down hard. The pain had cut through the alcohol-induced bravery, and he scampered out of the bar when the boy reached to his pocket and pulled a knife.
It would have been amusing to watch him run away with his tail between his leg, if he hadn’t forgotten he wasn’t alone. Amelia stayed behind, caught flatfooted by the sudden burst of violence, frozen stiff. Still, I wouldn’t have cared if I hadn’t caught the look of the boy that floored Henry with a punch. Youth, the rush of adrenaline, and alcohol was an explosive combination, especially to a young gang member with friends to impress. And I could read his warped thoughts from the look he sent towards Amelia.
I sighed resignedly, but stood up and started to walk towards them without losing any time. I didn’t run, because any sudden movement would have escalated the situation before I was in a position to intervene. Letting things continue was an option, but it was one that I had no intention of taking. Yes, my relationship with her wasn’t the best, but a slight dislike was no reason to leave a woman fending against three boys with an overabundance of courage and entitlement, and not enough common sense.
“Look at it boys,” said the one with the knife. “The idiot had decided to leave his girlfriend as compensation.” Amelia jerked awake, the comment finally breaking the shock she was in, but it was too late, the boy stood in front of her, cutting her escape route. The other two laughed, while one of them had a disapproving expression about what was about to happen, I was willing to bet that it wasn’t enough to stand against his friends. The other patrons looked disapprovingly, but made no move to interject. Maybe they would have after the boys pushed to the next level. But the doubtful bravery of the crowd wasn’t a reason for me to keep my hand back.
“It’s a nice one,” joined the more enthusiastic one, taking a step forward. Amelia took a step back in reflex, pushing herself to a corner, concealed from the rest of the bar. A big mistake, as less the crowd could see, easier for them to ignore. She was lucky that I had seen things unfold, as she could have easily found herself under their mercy. After this point, she was locked even if she close to shout. It carried the risk of escalating the situation even further.
Recognizing the risk, I quickened my steps. I was there before any of them had the opportunity to say anything else, stepping between them and Amelia. “Hello guys,” I said calmly. Too calm, considering one of them had pulled a knife the second I stepped between them. I hoped for them notice just how calm I was while being threatened with a knife and back off, but unfortunately, it wasn’t very likely. Young boys drunk with their perceived powers made bad observers.
It rolled on as I expected. “It’s not something you want to be a part of it, old man,” the aggressive one said in a manner he no doubt thought as intimidating, and he swung his blade in a wide arc. I wasn’t alarmed, because I could see it wasn’t going to connect, he was too far away from me. A move purely for intimidation purposes.
Which was why he looked surprised when, instead of scrambling away in a pathetic whimper, I caught his wrist. Surprised, he wasn’t able to put any resistance when I squeezed his wrist, forcing him to drop the blade. The other righted themselves in alarm, their hands getting closer to their waists, but I raised my hand to halt their advance. “Sorry gentlemen, reflexes,” I explained as I pushed my attacker back towards his friends. We all knew it was a bullshit explanation, but it gave them an excuse not to escalate the situation.
The aggressive one looked more than willing to ignore the opportunity, but the reticent one put his hand on his shoulder, urging him to stay back. I nodded in appreciation. “I had seen Henry had managed to ruin your evening as well,” I started. “Sorry about that, he is kind of an ass. How about I make it up to you guys. Since I have the misfortune of knowing him, I can’t help but feel responsible.”
“I know a way-” the aggressive one started, his gaze turning towards Amelia, his intention obvious, but his friends were quick to silence him. Smart, I thought. I could see that the boy was going to go far. A survival instinct, combined with good observation, was more important than anything else while living at the edge of the law.
I reached for my pocket, slowly and in an exaggerated motion, aware that violence could erupt if they thought I was pulling a weapon. I pulled three bills instead, hundreds, and threw them on the table before gesturing towards a waiter. “Bring me a bottle of whiskey,” I said before turning to guys. “With ice or without ice?” I asked in a forced normality.
“With ice,” said the calm one, throwing a glance towards the aggressive one when he looked like he was about to argue. Good, I thought. He also had a presence to control his lackeys.
I repeated that to the waiter from the distance, then leaned and picked their blade. A bit of show to convince them following me was a bad idea had the potential to be useful. “It has been a pleasure, guys,” I said. “However, we need to go, but we can play some darts the next time we meet.” With that, I swung my arm without a warning. They jerked up in panic, then turned to look behind when the blade thudded, sank firmly on the dart board. It wasn’t the bullseye, but it hit the board reasonably close to the center, a decent achievement considering the blade lacked balance.
I grabbed Amelia’s hand and dragged her with me as I walked towards the exit, each step even and careful. Running away would imply that I was actually afraid of them, which would destroy the earlier impression I had on them. She held my hand limply, unable to process the sudden turn of events. I even sent a small nod towards the gang members as I passed them, reinforcing my calm impression. Even after the show, the situation was too fragile. I could have fought against them, of course, but that would only bring undue attention to me. Not to mention three-to-one was not the best odds, especially with the added responsibility of protecting Amelia.
We managed to step out of the bar safely, and I called for a taxi. Amelia was still silent, though her grip around my fingers was tight enough to hurt. I said nothing. She needed something real to anchor her to prevent her from going hysterics, and a bit of pain was considerably better than trying to deal with her out of control cries. We took our seats, and she murmured her address, too silent for the driver to hear, forcing me to repeat it.
Discounting the rumbling of the engine, it was a silent drive. Amelia slid closer to me, trying to hold my arm tight. I threw my arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. She rested her head on my chest, her arms tightening around my torso. At first, I tried to ignore the distinct feeling of her breasts pressing to my chest, her top too flimsy to cut the sensations. I kept my gaze forward, giving her space to gather herself. I had assumed that she was still battling with fear and shock.
Then, I started to realize that my thoughts about the source of her silence might not be as accurate as I first assumed. My first clue was the way she moved. First, she started shifting, with the side effect of rubbing her breasts to my chest. I tried to ignore the enticing sensation despite a certain awakening of my body. I assumed that she was trying to get comfortable in our awkward seating arrangement, but the movement continued, a bit too rhythmic to be just a search for a new position.
When I turned to look at her, her hands started to move as well, slowly moving around, rubbing my chest in a circular motion. But, even with the clues, I was surprised when she looked up, desire burning deep in her eyes. I was surprised to the point I failed to say anything the moment her hands slid down, landing on the rapidly growing bulge on my pants. The expression of her face was exceedingly familiar. I have seen that on the faces of some women that hung around the mafia despite having no need of money or services. They turned on by the idea of danger, longing to listen to the stories of gunfights and melees, hunting for the rare nights where the fights occur.
Seeing my annoying professor was one of those thrill-sluts was a surprise, but the surprise only let my body free to move in a familiar pattern. I started rubbing her shoulder, and a smile burned wide on her face, glad to see me responding to her less-than-subtle advances. A small voice inside me tried to tell me that she had just gone through a traumatic experience and the gentlemanly thing was to gently let her down, to allow her recovery.
It was a good thing I was not a gentleman, I thought as I squashed the voice of reason. She was a big girl, if she wanted some spicy moments to conclude the night, I was more than ready to assist. And it was going to be definitely fun after all the pointless remarks and angry bursts I had to listen just to keep my identity covered. I turned my body a bit so that I could face her without hurting my neck, then leaned down to capture her lips.
Enthusiastic, she met me halfway in a searing kiss that conveyed her burning need, her tongue trying to push into my mouth aggressively. Unfortunately for her, it was where I drew the line. I had already accommodated her petty dominance during the day, and I had no intention of allowing her to establish a similar balance for tonight, or any night. I used my free hand to grab her hair, and pulled it, hard enough to force her move. She opened her mouth in a surprised moan, though my lips were more than up to the task of suppressing the noise. Leveraging the opportunity, my tongue slipped into her mouth, ravaging it to my heart's content.
Her tongue tried to wrap around mine in a vain attempt of pushing it away, but she lacked the strength and the will to dominate me now that I stopped playing the meek assistant. I continued kissing her, each passing second reinforcing the new balance of power. I could feel her desire to dominate lessening by each passing second. I wasn’t surprised by her early capitulation, as her domineering demeanor at work was too forced to be a part of her nature.
Only after I made sure the lesson about our new balance of power sank into her consciousness I pulled away from the kiss. There was still a long way until it took a hold irrevocably, but it was a start. I examined her as I let her catch her breath for a second. Her lips, slightly bruised by my rough kiss, was parted open, allowing her to breathe rapidly in an attempt to calm her nerves. Her eyes, shining with excitement, was locked to mine, the green shine in their depths begging for more.
I was gentleman enough not to disappoint a woman begging for pleasure. I patted my lap, inviting her to a more comfortable position. She didn’t lose a second before climbing on my lap. “Hey, that’s too much-” the driver started to say, but stopped midway, courtesy of a hundred I passed to him. He fell silent, and after a threatening glare, also kept his gaze away from the rear mirror.
I put my hands on her legs, her already short skirt climbed more thanks to the way she was sitting, barely able to cover her underwear. My hands slid under the deficient cover of her skirt, sinking into her plump bottom. She moaned once more, this time, unfiltered by my lips, echoed in the confines of the car. I leaned forward, this time clamping to her neck instead of assaulting her lips, littering her pale skin with hickeys. She moaned unbidden, uncaring about the consequences, but I was amused, imagining the effort it would take for her to hide it from the students.
I couldn’t help but let out a matching moan when her hips started moving. After all, I was already aroused due to compromising position I had caught Megan and her friend, and all the naughty videos I had liberated from there was like adding gasoline to an already burning fire. Factor in the rush of adrenaline I had just experienced, and it was a miracle that I managed to keep myself from fucking her in the taxi. We couldn’t have arrived at her fast enough.
I didn’t even wait for her to leave the car in her own power when the car finally came to a stop. I wrapped my arms around her waist and lifted her, stopping only to pass another fifty to the driver for his cooperation before stepping out, her legs wrapping around my waist, making the task of carrying her even easier. We were in front of a small house with a cute garden, a calm place that was a perfect fit for an academician. For a biker slut dressed in a micro skirt and almost-see-through blouse, aroused uncontrollably by the threat of physical assault she had just experienced, not so much.
My arms were tight around her waist, making it impossible for her to get down as I walked towards her door. Even after arriving, I didn’t let her step on the ground, squeezing between the door and my body as I invaded her mouth mercilessly once more, my hands acquainting themselves with the contours of her body, sliding under her blouse.
“I can’t invite you inside,” she murmured, speaking for the first time after giving her address. I would have been annoyed if it wasn’t for the burning arousal on her face. I was impressed, despite the relative simplicity of her plot. In front of her own house, her work personality was seeping back to the surface, asking her to take control. She still wanted sex, but she also wanted me to beg, allowing her to regain control of the situation.
However, I was too experienced to fall for such juvenile traps. More importantly, I knew exactly how to teach her a lesson. “Okay,” I said with a forced nonchalance as I gently let her down, continuing to hold her for another second until her legs stopped trembling badly. Still, I doubted she could stand if she hadn’t been leaning on the door.
“What do you mean, okay?” she said in a shocked tone, showing that she had never considered that possibility.
“Very simple word, okay, commonly used to convey an affirmative message,” I explained, replicating the annoying tone she used whenever she explained a complicated word in the classroom. “You’re the boss. If you don’t want me inside the house, who am I to disagree.”
It was a real struggle not to laugh for her expression, arousal battling with disappointment. Even funnier, her pride was too strong to take her words back without my begging, and she was too confused to find a way to sidestep the situation. I let her wallow in despair for a second, then she turned her back, reaching for her keys…
Only to find herself smashed against her door as I pushed, pinning her immobile. “What are you-” she started to say, only to cut short when my hand disappeared under her skirt, pulling down her panties. “James,” she whispered in panic. “What are you doing!”
“Since you’re not going to invite me inside, I decided to finish the job I started here,” I whispered, each word slow, measured. “But, of course, if you don’t want to do,” I added, my fingers sliding inside her wet slit. Her panties were around her ankle, too far away to guard her most sensitive spot against my merciless assault. “Just say the word, and I’ll walk away.”
I smirked at her shocked silence, stuck between two options, each incomprehensible in their own right. If she stayed silent, she was going to be taken against her own door, where all it took a curious neighbor to ruin her reputation irrevocably. Alternatively, she could just whisper a negative word, and I would walk away, leaving her free but aching…
I waited almost a minute for her to say anything, only to met with silence, broken only by her gasps filled with a burning need. It wasn’t exactly a surprise, the wetness I felt on my fingertips as I danced at her entrance suggested the other was an impossibility. I couldn’t help but feel a smirk blooming on my face as I freed shaft from the confines of my pants.
A moan escaped from my mouth as I pushed inside her, only for her walls to clamp around tightly. “You needed this for a long time, don’t you, slut,” I whispered, and felt her tightening around even further. I impaled her without bothering to moderate my speed, my shaft disappearing all the way inside, and earning another cry, this time much louder in response. “You enjoy being taken against the door like a common whore, don’t you?” I continued as I started slamming into her with a quick rhythm. “Maybe that was why you were such a bitch at work, trying to tempt me to bend you over the desk for punishment.”
She opened her mouth, about to answer. But from my perspective, her mouth had more important things to do, and she shouldn’t exhaust it by forming words. With that, my hand grabbed her blouse and pulled it to the side. The fabric was too sensitive to resist my pull, and fallen on the ground helplessly after a brief ripping sound, which helped her words to transform into a panicked yelp. I ignored, too busy subjecting her bra to the same treatment, and soon, she was half-naked, the chilly evening wind caressing her sweaty skin freely.
“That’s too much,” she murmured in panic. I understood where she was coming from. However scandalous getting caught in your garden while having sex was, it couldn’t have compared with the same neighbors meeting with the view of her naked tits, dangling freely with each push.
“I don’t care,” I answered even as pulled back. I grabbed her waist, and forced her to turn towards me. “Or should I just walk away, leaving you without a release.” I looked deep into her eyes, enjoying the shock mixed with an overwhelming arousal. Her answer was obvious in her silence, but I wanted her to submit. “I asked you a question, professor,” I whispered mockingly even as I caressed her cheek. “And I expect a prompt answer.”
“Continue, please,” she whispered, on the edge of incomprehension.
“Good girl,” I said before lifting her, only to bring her down directly onto my shaft. Her legs wrapped around my waist once more, her back resting against the door. I impaled her again and again, her moans getting louder with each repeat, soon forcing me to kiss her just to silence her, not that it was a great difficulty. I ravaged her mouth mercilessly, ignoring the flailing resistance she tried to put.
The presence of the door, combined with the tight grasp of her legs, was enough to keep her in place, leaving my hands free to explore her body once more. “You afraid of your neighbors seeing your beautiful tits, right? Let me help you with that.” And with that I placed my hands over her breasts, squeezing hard. A moan escaped her mouth.
Then, she tightened around my shaft in a surprise arousal, suggesting that it wasn’t only the risk of physical threat that she enjoyed. The risk of getting caught in a compromising position seemed to work just as well. A very valuable information, I realized even as I pulled out her, leaving her to stand on her own feet once more. But her legs were trembling too badly to actually manage to support her, and she slid against the door until she found herself sitting on the ground. Perfect positioning for the thing I had in mind the next.
“Open wide,” I ordered, and she did. A panicked expression passing through her face a second later after she realized what I had in mind, but it was too late. My shaft was already between her lips, traveling deep into her mouth. “Go ahead,” I ordered, and her hands lifted to her head level, one catching the base of my shaft, the other massaging my balls, with a much greater skill than I would have expected her before tonight.
Feeling supercharged after all that happened, it hadn’t taken long for me to risk toppling over the edge under her enthusiastic assault. I pulled out at the last second, covering her sweaty face with my seed, quite a bit landing on her shiny black hair, contrasting sharply. Only then, I saw a flickering flame of anger, though it was nothing compared to the sea of pleasure it swam in. “See you tomorrow, professor,” I murmured, then turned back, leaving her in front of her own door, naked, dirtied, and confused.
Tomorrow was going to be fun…
Comments
Dirk Grey
Essentially, he screwed up the Family quite badly, and using plastic surgery to escape attention is not exactly unknown. In his mind, there's always a chance that they would discover his false trail, then find the doctor that made the operation etc. (Of course, it might not be as likely, but it's what the character thinks. Screwing the Mafia hard can leave a man rather twitchy)
KingConner
Why is he so worried about getting caught if he looks like a different person?
